Hades and Death
by MAndrews
Summary: Now called Tristan, Methos first knew him as Hades. Now he is in town and so is a woman who has been hunting him for more than 3000 years. Whose side is Methos on?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own the world and characters of Highlander, I'm just borrowing them.

Author's Note: Please tell me what you think of this story. There will be at least one more chapter, but if interest is expressed, I may devote more time to it.

Methos was enjoying a beer at Joe's, only half listening to Joe's discussion with one of his watcher buddies. They were discussing something about the number of immortals in Paris at the moment, a number which Methos thought meant he should probably think of getting out of town, especially since any number of them were likely to have some sort of nasty history with MacLeod he wanted to avoid getting dragged into. Mac had a talent for that sort of thing.

Methos was yanked suddenly from his ruminations on the Highlander as a trouble magnet by a pair of familiar names.

"That's them," Joe's friend confirmed. "Apparently Petra has been on Tristan's tail for 3 years now, never more than a city behind him. Longest any of the ones hunting him have been able to follow him. And get this, Tristan's watcher says he doesn't even carry a sword anymore!"

Methos tuned out again as the watcher elaborated on Petra and Tristan's past for Joe's benefit. Both of them in town was not a good thing, especially considering how obsessive and impulsive Petra was. He hadn't seen her in 1500 years, but if she was still chasing Tristan, she probably hadn't changed much. Tristan he hadn't seen in over 3000 years, but he'd kept track of him through the watchers, knew what he'd been up to since.

As millennia old memories threatened to overwhelm the world's oldest man, he forced his attention back to Joe's conversation just in time to hear some valuable information.

"We're going to have to find someone to fill in for Steven for a few days though, he sprained his ankle pretty badly following the last chase. Speaking of which, I'd better get going, got to talk to HQ about who should do that. See ya Joe."

"Later Jack," Joe answered. He looked over at Methos and noticed that the old man's beer wasn't empty yet. "Something wrong Adam?" he asked. "Do you know Tristan and Petra? They're not much younger than you."

"No," Methos agreed distractedly, already flicking mentally through what churches Tristan was likely to be in. "I gotta go Joe, catch you later."

Methos walked slowly through the streets of Paris, his mind on events that had happened more than three millennia ago. Times he usually tried very hard not to think about, but now Hades was in town. During his time with the watchers, Methos had kept an eye out for any mention of the man who had changed his life; he called himself Tristan now, a name he had chosen for its meaning, melancholy. Methos understood, better than most ever could.

The oldest man's thoughts were pulled back to the present as he arrived at his destination. It was a small church, and Tristan would be inside.

Methos stopped inside the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Tristan turned as the immortal buzz alerted him to another's presence and Methos heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Methos," the man in near the altar breathed.

"Hello Tristan," he answered neutrally. "Holy ground," he added.

"Always," the other immortal answered quietly. Methos saw the profound grief in his eyes and finally moved further into the church.

"Of course. Too many immortals still alive who remember what you did to them."

Tristan turned to face the crucifix at the front of the small sanctuary. "Yes. Sometimes I think I should just find one and let them take my head. But who deserves it more? Petra, Ivan, Calliope, Jason, Bree? Letting any of them kill me would rob the others. And then I don't want to die any more." Tristan laughed bitterly. "Of course, when I do think about who deserves to kill me most, I often come down to you. But I didn't know til now whether you were even still alive."

"I survive," Methos replied, "it's what I do." He sat down on the bench a few feet from Tristan and watched the 4000 year old man quietly for a moment. He looked early twenties though he had only been about 17 when he'd died, but people had aged differently so long ago. His head was bowed and Methos detected the traces of tears on his cheeks.

Tristan's broken voice finally ended the silence. "I am sorry Methos. I know that is inadequate for what I did to you, to your family." He looked up and Methos looked into a pair of haunted gray eyes. "If you want my head, it is yours. There is an alley not far from here. I will not fight you."

Methos stood abruptly and began pacing restlessly but slowly along the walls. He didn't answer the man's offer right away, taking time to gather his thoughts. He knew he would not take Tristan's head, he could not judge the immortal who had called himself Hades anymore than he had been able to judge Kronos.

He paused by a small, ornate table and picked up one of the songbooks it held. He flipped uninterestedly through it before replacing it and turning back to Tristan. "Do you know what I did after I finally escaped from you?"

Tristan nodded, "You rode with the horseman."

"I didn't just become a horseman," Methos said, shaking his head. "I became Death." He paused for a moment before finishing softly, "I became you."

Tristan nodded again. "That is why you, more than any other, deserve to take my head. None of the others were driven to the point where they became me."

Methos shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line as he forced back the memories of burning villages and screaming innocents. "No, that is why I, more than any other, cannot kill you. I have been you, and I have changed." He paused, meeting the gaze of an immortal only a thousand years younger than himself. "I have changed," he repeated softly, "as you have changed."

"No," Tristan argued, an urgency in his voice. "I have not changed, monsters don't change. I killed because I wanted to, nothing drove me to it but my own darkness. You have not changed either, you have simply returned to what you were before I changed you. You had reason for what you did!"

"Reason?" Methos shook his head. "No, I had no reason to become a horseman, to become Death. I had an excuse. They are not the same thing."

"Perhaps," Tristan allowed, "but you would never have become Death if not for the horrors I visited upon you."

"You don't think so?" Methos paused to consider this, although he had done so many times already in the three thousand years since Cassandra's escape had led to him leaving the horsemen. "You are likely right, you were the trigger. But the potential was there already, you did not create that. One could argue that you yourself weer triggered by the guilt of surviving the disaster that destroyed your home and made you immortal."

"I didn't feel guilty," Tristan answered. "I was fascinated. I wanted to understand death and what I was and I didn't care who I hurt to find out."

"So which is worse?" Methos asked, without really expecting an answer. "To kill and torture for curiosity or to kill for the pleasure of it?"

"I enjoyed the learning," Tristan said hollowly, "I committed both sins." Then Tristan looked at him, "Did you really enjoy it, Methos? Were you really feeling anything?" He was clearly determined to make a monster out of himself and a victim out of Methos. Well, he was half right about Methos, he had been victim before he was a monster.

Methos sank down onto a bench. "Yes and no. I had blocked all other feelings so the joy I took in the killing filled in the void, but the joy was not new. Yes, I enjoyed being Death at the time. It wasn't until something else wormed its way into my heart that I began to lose that."

"Cassandra," Tristan murmured.

Methos looked sharply at the man a few feet away. "What do you know about Cassandra?" he demanded.

"I know she became immortal when you destroyed her village, I know you kept her."

"How did you learn that?" Methos forced his voice not to tremble, he had been hoping to avoid this topic and cursed himself for hinting at it.

"I have tried to learn what I can about all those I hurt. You have been difficult to find, but the others were easier since they were often looking for me as well.. Most of them seem to have an obsession with finding and killing me."

"It's been over 3000 years," Methos observed and laughed without humour, "You'd think the oldest among us would realize that people can change over such a long period of time."

"Do we?" Tristan asked again.

Methos met his gaze squarely, "Yes."

"Take my head Methos, take it and let it be done. The others will thank you."

"You really think your death will bring them peace?" Methos demanded. He shook his head derisively. "It won't."

"They could know that the loved ones I killed were avenged," Tristan pressed.

"You're 4000 years old Tristan, and all of them are at least 3000, at least some of you should have learned by now that vengeance solves nothing! For goodness sakes, even MacLeod is learning that!" Methos stood and strode towards the door. He paused when he reached it and turned. Tristan was facing the front again with his head bowed. "Petra is in town as well Tristan," Methos warned. When Tristan didn't answer he continued, "Don't do anything stupid." Without waiting for an answer he left the church and went to Joe's.


	2. Protecting

Disclaimer: The world and characters of Highlander to not belong to me. I just want to play with them. Not making any money here.

Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long, paper season and exams attacked me. There will be at least one more chapter. Three may be more after that, it all depends on what my muses tell me.

* * *

Duncan MacLeod was roused by the combination of the immortal buzz and someone banging on his door. Part of the buzz was expected as Amanda had been sleeping next to him, but there was more coming from the barge's door. It felt old and powerful, but he ruled out Methos as he groggily climbed out of bed and grabbed some clothes. Methos wouldn't have bothered knocking, he had a key, though Duncan had no idea where he's gotten it since he had changed to locks a few months ago and never actually gotten around to giving a copy to the world's oldest man. Amanda burrowed under the covers as Duncan dragged on a pair of pants.

It might have been Cassandra, but last he had heard she had been in Africa and planning to stay there for a while. His tired brain refused to supply any other possibilities even as Duncan approached the door, grabbing his sword on the way.

"Who is it?" he called, unwilling to open the door until he knew whoever was on the other side was friendly.

"It's Petra," came the reply. "Who else is here?"

Duncan slipped his sword into the place and opened the door to the 4000 year old Egyptian. "Amanda's here." Duncan answered, uncharacteristically short, but he'd beheaded someone very late last night and was still mentally exhausted.

"Hades is in town," Petra informed him, moving past him and dropping onto the couch. She scowled at something Duncan couldn't see as he tried to remember who Hades was and why this mattered.

"Do you want some coffee?" he asked, as he worked on it. Petra nodded and Duncan moved into the kitchen. Amanda appeared as the smell of coffee began to permeate the barge, apparently deciding that if Mac was making coffee it must be safe.

As Duncan pulled milk from the fridge and sugar from the cupboard, something finally clicked and he nearly dropped the bowl. "Hades!" he said.

Petra frowned at him from the couch. "That's what I said!" she replied crossly. Amanda raised a questioning eyebrow at Duncan from behind Petra. "He's hiding on Holy Ground. How am I supposed to kill him if he's always on Holy Ground?" Petra continued, frustration in her voice.

Amanda glanced at her and then back at Duncan. "Who's Hades?" she asked pointedly as Duncan poured coffee into three mugs, automatically adding sugar and cream exactly as each woman liked it.

Before Duncan could answer her question, Petra turned to face Amanda. "He's a monster who needs to die." She turned back to Duncan. "You have to help me! He knows I'm here! I need your help to get him in the open where I can kill him!"

Duncan didn't answer as he delivered the coffee and sat down in a chair facing the couch. Amanda was watching him with a mildly annoyed expression on her face, clearly waiting for a better explanation of Hades' identity. Petra was scowling into her coffee, as though holding it responsible for her inability to actually catch Hades. Duncan was unwilling to give Amanda the answers she wanted with Petra sitting right there since he wasn't sure how she'd react, and he had no idea what answer to give Petra.

"Do you know anything more specific about where he is?" Duncan asked to buy himself some time. "Paris is a big city."

"My student is following him" Petra replied. "He's been spending all his time in a small church near the river." Duncan stared at her for a moment, shocked that she would allow a student to follow an immortal like Hades. As though reading these thoughts, Petra hastened to add, "An old student. He's almost 80 years old now. I told him what Hades is and agreed to help me hunt him." Duncan nodded in relief.

"He arrived in town two days ago, and he went right to the church and he's been sleeping there!" Petra informed Duncan, leaning forward urgently. "We have to find someway to lure him out without alerting him that we're here." She leaned back against the couch, rubbing her temple with one hand.

"You don't think he'll have noticed an immortal following him."

Petra shook her head impatiently. "George knows enough to keep his distance. We lose him a lot, but never for long." Petra set her coffee aside and leaned forward again. "And I think there's someone else here who's hunting him."

"Who?"

Petra shrugged and sat back. "I don't know, but George said that he saw someone go into the church yesterday and that he was only in there a few minutes but when he came out he was talking to someone inside and George is sure that no one else was inside but Hades."

"It could have been a mortal who was being friendly," Amanda commented.

Petra shook her head again. "George said he looked upset. He was too far away to feel the buzz, but he's sure it was an immortal." Amanda raised a sceptical eyebrow, which was how Duncan felt himself, but didn't want to upset Petra anymore; she could be unpredictable.

"Even if it is another immortal hunting him," he answered, "he's probably having as much trouble as you are getting him away fro Holy Ground."

Petra nodded. "True," she murmured. A silence fell between the three immortals, during which they sipped their coffee and Amanda kept shooting looks at Duncan that let him know he was going to have to give her a more detailed explanation of what was going very soon.

The silence was broken by a phone ringing. Petra pulled her cell from her pocket and answered breathlessly. She listened for a moment then abruptly hung up as she scrambled to her feet. "He's leaving the church!" she said, her eyes alight with expectation. "But the other immortal is there too, I have to go!" Petra took off and Duncan raced after her, Amanda on his heels.

"Petra, wait!" Duncan called as she slid into a small red car and sped off. Swearing, Duncan threw imself into his own car and revved the engine as Amanda slid in neatly. Before Amanda's door was shut, Duncan hit the gas pedal and took off in pursuit.

Methos had returned to the small church Tristan was hiding in and the two ancient men sat side by side, staring at the stained glass windows in silence. It was early morning and the rising sun was just starting to peek through the eastern windows.

"It's beautiful," Tristan commented softly. "I don't deserve it."

Methos didn't answer. He'd already tried convincing Tristan to leave town, get away from Petra. A quick check of the watcher's database while Joe had been busy with the bar had turned up the fact that Petra had brought a student with her on her hunt, putting Tristan in even more danger, because the 78 year old immortal was good, a threat even to immortals who carried swords, and Tristan still refused.

Nearly another hour passed in silence before either man spoke again. "Penelope died a few years ago," Tristan said quietly. "She's burred her in Paris."

"I know," Methos answered, his voice betraying nothing of his emotions.

"I feel like I should do something," Tristan continued a moment later, anguish in his voice. "But what? I made her immortal in the worst possible way and decimated her entire village, leaving flowers seems rather crass." He laughed without humour and dropped his head into his hands, sobbing into them.

Methos didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, without looking at the man beside him he began to speak very softly, forcing Tristan to be quiet to hear him. "About once a century, I return to the areas I terrorized as a horseman and meditate. I will always remember and always regret that time. I renew my vow to never again become Death. You cannot change the past, Tristan, you can only learn from it." Methos rose and moved towards the door. He paused when he heard Tristan move behind him.

"I swear to you, Methos, that I will never again take a life." Methos turned to look at him. He face was washed with tears and his eyes were red and puffy. Methos tended to phrase his vow as not taking innocent lives since he did have to defend himself after all, but that would do from Tristan. He nodded his acceptance and waited while Tristan joined him by the door. "I will tell Penelope and then I will leave Paris as you suggest."

Methos nodded and led the way out of the church. They had just reached the bottom of the steps when they sensed another immortal. It didn't feel very old, and Methos suspected it was Petra's student, George.

Methos drew his sword and glanced over his shoulder. "Get back inside Tristan, I'll call you when it's safe." Tristan didn't move but George stepped into view at this point and Methos focussed his attention on the young immortal.

"Stand aside," George told Methos, levelling his sword at Tristan. "I have no argument with you, only him. Do not interfere."

Methos shifted so that he was more squarely between George and his target. "If you wish to kill Tristan, you do have an argument with me."

George's face darkened at he shot a murderous look at Tristan before replying. "His name is not Tristan, it is Hades. Stand aside, you don't know what you're protecting."

"I know a great deal more about him than you ever will," Methos answered coolly.

"Get out of the way." George said angrily. "I will kill you to get to him!" Without further warning he lunged, his sword driving into Methos' gut. Methos reacted with reflexes born of 5000 years of experience and managed to plunge his sword through the younger man's leg. George pitched over, smashing his head on the cement walls around the church's small yard. For good measure Methos drove his sword into his heart and left it there for a few moments. His free hand was clutched to his bleeding side but he could feel the wounds healing already. With luck, he just might heal fast enough not to bleed to death since George seemed to have missed all the major organs.

Tristan had not moved. "You should have let him…" he began but Methos cut him off.

"He's probably called Petra, get out of here…NOW!" Tristan hesitated a moment, but Tristan's desire to live finally won out and he fled. Methos sighed and wrenched his sword from George's chest and slid down the wall to sit next to him. Tristan's buzz vanished. A moment later the immortal buzz returned, this time announcing the arrival of Petra. He was surprised and alarmed when he felt two others arriving with her. The bleeding stopped as Methos heaved himself to his feet, though there was still a hole in his side.

Petra felt Duncan and Amanda behind her but paid no attention to them as she raced from the street to the church. She rounded the corner and stopped short.

Duncan and Amanda both detected only one old immortal presence besides Petra's as they joined her Duncan expected to find Tristan standing over George's headless body. The sight that greeted him when he rounded the corner just a moment behind Petra nearly made him sit down. Methos stood over a bloody body, head still attached, holding an equally bloody sword. There was a large hole in his sweater and a lot of blood that seemed to be his.

"No!" Petra screamed. She made to attack Methos but Duncan grabbed her arm.

"George must have gotten mixed up!" Duncan said urgently. "He's not dead, not permanently. He must have just attacked to wrong person." He wondered distractedly whether Methos and Petra had ever met, they were relatively close in age.

"Are you all right Adam?" Amanda asked, moving past Duncan and Petra, a worried look on her face. He nodded without looking at her, his eyes locked on Petra.

"His name's not Adam, it's Methos!" Petra shouted, answering Duncan's question. She continued trying to get at Methos.

"Adam or Methos, it doesn't matter," Duncan grunted, digging in his heels. "He didn't take George's head! This is just a misunderstanding!"

Petra stopped struggling and Duncan warily let go, remaining on guard in case it was a ruse.

Duncan glanced at George, still at Methos' feet, who was beginning to revive. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere before someone comes," he suggested. Amanda nodded in agreement and leaned down to help the newly awaken George to his feet. Neither Petra nor Methos acknowledged the suggestion.

George looked around as Amanda tried to guide him across the small yard. "Petra!" he cried when he saw her. "He was here! Hades was here! And he," George pointed to Methos, "he stopped me from killing him!"

"Of course he did, he always does!" Petra said, almost sobbing. She turned to Methos. "Why do you keep protecting him!"

"You know why," Methos answered coldly.

"He murdered your family! He tortured you for over 500 years! Why do you protect him!" Petra shrieked.

For several moments everything froze, even the cold breeze seemed to stop blowing and the chilly stones seemed to be listening for Methos' answer.

"People change Petra," he answered at last. Without looking at either Duncan or Amanda he turned and disappeared into the church.

Petra dropped to her knees with a sob. Duncan crouched down next to her, trying to sort out what had just happened.

Amanda and George joined Duncan and Petra and George wrapped his arms around his old teacher. Duncan leaned towards Amanda. "Can you get them back to the barge?" he asked quietly. "I'm going to go talk to Methos." Amanda gave him a sideways look but nodded. "Thanks," Duncan murmured before getting up and heading for the church.

Amanda watched him go inside then shook her head. She was rather glad she wasn't going to witness this conversation. Duncan had told her why Petra hated Hades, and she had already found out about Methos' past, which still caused tension between the two immortals. This was going to bring all that up again.

"Come on," Amanda encouraged gently, "let's go."

Methos slouched in the pew, his eyes closed as he waited. Finally, three immortal presences receded and one entered the church.

"Hello MacLead," Methos said without turning.

"What's going on Methos?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, though inside he was screaming in frustration.

"Just one monster protecting another," Methos answered flatly.

Duncan ground his teeth. "Don't give me that Methos. You let me kill Kronos and Caspian, you arranged it! You killed Silas yourself, to save a woman who wanted to kill you. Your brothers and your student, but you protect Hades…"

He would have continued but Methos had turned around suddenly. "Who told you Silas was my student?" he demanded.

Duncan glared at him. "Cassandra told me. And don't change the subject , we're talking about why you're protecting Hades." He paused. "Is what she said true?" he asked after a moment. "Did Hades really kill your family?"

Methos stood abruptly. "Yes, he did. I was 1000 years old and she was my 12 wife. Want to know the worst part? I don't even remember her name. I know she was a widow, and there were at least 8 children, but I don't remember any of their names." he broke off and Duncan saw tears on his face. "All I remember is the taste of…." he stopped again and shook his head. Suddenly the cold mask snapped back into place. "It doesn't matter what he did. He isn't Hades anymore, he is Tristan."

"Methos," Duncan began but Methos was already moving through the door. "Methos, wait!" he called, scrambling to follow.

"Let it be Duncan," Methos told him as he got into his car a moment later and Duncan caught up to him. Methos met Duncan's gaze for the briefest moment and Duncan was struck, as he rarely was, by how old Methos looked. Then Methos was pulling away leaving Duncan just as confused and frustrated as he had been a few minutes before.

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Many thanks to my dear reviewers.

King Henry: Ask and you shall receive. More immortals who want Tristan's head to come!

wajag: Glad you liked it

LightYears: Thank you very much, I'm flattered.

tvnerdgirl: Good, glad you liked the beginning, thanks for beta-ing that chapter. I'd have asked you to beta this one, but you shipped off to California on me ;-)


	3. Jason

Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait, I developed a bad case of over-work and writer's block. I know where I want to go with this story, but I forgot how I was going to get there. This is a fairly short chapter just to let you know I haven't completely abandoned it.

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Jason was lying in wait at the cemetery. He had studied psychology since Freud, keeping up with every new movement, every new theory. He wanted to understand the man who had killed his family so slowly. Not for any sort of possible compassion, Tristan deserved none, but to help him find him. And he knew that the charade Tristan was playing would bring him here, to Penelope's grave.

Finally a taxi pulled up accompanied by the immortal buzz, as the car pulled away, leaving Tristan alone and exposed, Jason left the cemetery and the boundaries of Holy Ground.

"I thought it might be you," Tristan said quietly, watching him.

"I'm sure you did," Jason sneered. "Spent a good century getting to know me, didn't you?"

"I'm glad you're here. Methos doesn't know, he would have warned me." A strange smile crossed his face. "His sources, whatever they are, have failed him. I will die today, finally."

Jason adjusted his grip on his sword and looked at the older man suspiciously. He was expecting him to pull a weapon at any moment and the delay made him nervous. Tristan seemed to be on no hurry however. He looked over at the graves and closed his eyes, murmuring in an ancient language. Jason shook with damp and fury. Tristan was playing him, he had to be.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, advancing with his sword held as steady as he could. He was annoyed by the way it seemed to waver, as though he were indecisive.

Tristan opened his eyes. "I am apologizing to Penelope. I would apologize to you but I don't think you would accept. Nor should you, but Penelope, she would, she was gentle."

"Yeah, she was. She was an angel. Her and Methos are the only ones who ever defended you. But they're wrong, you can't fool me like you did them. I know you haven't changed!"

"No, I haven't. Kill me." Tristan knelt down and exposed his neck. Jason knew it was a trick, it had to be, but he would take advantage of it nonetheless. Take the man's head before he could spring whatever trap he had planned.

Jason darted forward, sword raised and brought it down. Tristan didn't flinch. Jason was thrown off balance and his sword missed the killing blow, merely slicing deeply. Tristan lurched forward, but didn't cry out. Jason stood frozen as Tristan still made no move to protect himself.

A minute that lasted an eternity passed until Jason realized what was happening. "You think I won't do it, that's what it is. You think if you keep acting all peaceful I won't be able to kill you. You know I'm better, stronger, so you're trying to trick me into not killing you! It won't work! It won't!" He was screaming now and he lifted the sword to kill him, firm now in his resolve.

The sword slipped from his fingers, clanging harmlessly to the cement. Jason looked in surprise at the blood blossoming on his shoulder. He looked around puzzled, Tristan hadn't moved, who had shot him. He didn't see the man standing in the shadows of the trees before he bled to death.

Methos half ran over to Tristan who had died from blood loss moments before Jason had, cursing them both in a variety of ancient languages. Both ancient themselves and intent on the execution, they hadn't noticed his arrival. He put three more bullets into Jason when he reached them just to make sure the man stayed down long enough for Tristan to wake up.

As Methos began dragging the still dead man across the parking lot he thanked whatever powers there were that he'd decided to come to the graveyard. He nearly hadn't, whatever Petra thought Methos didn't like Tristan and he didn't want to see the man anymore, but some instinct had made him come.

Tristan woke up just as they reached the edge of the clearing. Unfortunately so did Jason who spotted them quickly since there was a blood trail pointing at them.

"Methos! Let him go! He's a monster! Please! Don't let him to this to you! To us!" Jason shouted desperately.

Methos pointed his gun at the other immortal. "I will shoot you again Jason."

Jason stopped, frustration and anger clear on his face. "Methos..." he begged.

Methos bit his tongue and hoped he hadn't heard about Jason because he'd lost his watcher again. Older immortals were entirely to free with the word "Methos."

"Let him Methos, please," Tristan said, moving to present himself again. Methos grabbed his arm with his free hand.

"I am not in the mood to argue with either of you. I like the easy solution, I always have. Right now that's shooting both of you if you don't stop." Methos said coldly. Both Jason and Tristan froze. Finally Jason make an inarticulate sound and stormed away, slipping his sword back into its sheath. Methos waited until his buzz faded then put the gun away.

"Let's go Tristan. I'm putting you on the next train out of town." Tristan followed Methos to his car and slid silently into the passenger seat. Methos got into the driver's seat and slammed the door. He pulled onto the road and the two of them drove in silence for several minutes.

When the truck behind them slammed into the bumped the first time, Methos was surprised. When it did it a second time he was mad. By the time it rammed them a third time he'd made of the driver in the rearview mirror. George.

Methos was a pretty good driver, he did his best to keep the car on the road while Tristan clutched the dashboard, but George was better and driving a larger vehicle. He also seemed to be biding his time til they were along side an incline.

The car rolled and Methos wished he hadn't gotten rid of his jeep which probably could have handled to attack. As soon as the car stopped moving Methos scrambled out of the car and tried to hurry around to help Tristan.

But Methos was not the only immortal who could use a gun to subdue another one. The first bullet hit the base of his spine. The second one went into his head.


	4. Searching

Author's Note: This was supposed to be the start of the preceeding chapter but I forgot about it but I think it works really well as the start of this one.

* * *

Duncan MacLeod watched the world's oldest man drive away from him. 'Let it go,' he'd said, though he must have known it was not MacLeod's nature to let things like this go. Petra was his friend and she was hunting the man who had tortured her for thirty years. But Cassandra was his friend too, and he had stopped her killing Methos who had been as much a monster to her as Hades had been to Petra. Duncan sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair before climbing slowly into his car.

He knew Amanda would have taken Petra and George back to the barge, but the Highlander needed to get his thoughts in order before he talked to Petra again.

Although he had been horrified when he had learned about Methos' past a few years ago, he had slowly come to accept it as part of the man he had come to consider a friend. MacLeod's visions about what the world would have been like without himself in it had shown him that the darkness that had turned Methos into Death was still present, but he had also come to believe that he had had an influence on the ancient immortal, and helped pushed that darkness even deeper.

At the time, when Duncan had shouted for Cassandra not to kill Methos, he hadn't known why, only that he couldn't let Cassandra kill someone who was on their hands and knees sobbing. He had also wanted a chance to get a better explanation out of Methos. Duncan pulled over into a tourist parking lot next to the river and leaned his head on the steering wheel, trying to ignore the beginnings of a pounding headache.

Methos had, in Duncan's opinion, proved himself a changed man. Although for some time after the events at Kronos's 'fortress' Duncan had had lingering doubts about whether Methos had done it because, as he said himself, he went with the winning team as a matter of self-preservation and had known Duncan would be the winning team or because he wanted Duncan to win. But after a lot of reflection, Duncan had realized that either side could have won, the deciding factor being where Methos placed his loyalty. Methos had chosen MacLeod to be the winning side.

Duncan straightened up and started the car again and pulled back onto the streets, heading for the outskirts of the city. He didn't pay much attention to where he going until he saw smoke coming from a deep ditch. He pulled over and got out, pulling a first aid kit automatically from under the passenger seat. He tossed it back in, however, when he felt another immortal nearby. He gripped his hilt and stepped cautiously towards the edge.

Methos was crouching halfway up the slope, one hand holding a bush for balance and the other resting on his sword. He met Duncan's startled gaze for a moment before continuing his climb. He accepted the hand Duncan held out and a moment later was standing beside him.

"What happened to you?" Duncan asked, taking in Methos's dishevled and bloodied clothes and over-turned car.

"George happened. He has Tristan, come on."

Duncan turned around surprised. Methos was already getting into the driver's seat of Duncan's car.

"Hey!" Duncan objected.

"Get in or I'm leaving without you." Methos started to car as Duncan scrambled into the other side and took off in a rush. Duncan held the dashboard with one hand and pulled out his cell phone with the other. He awkwardly dialed Amanda's phone with one hand and waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Amanda, it's Duncan. Is Petra still there?"

"Yeah, she's in the kitchen. You want to talk to her?"

"No, not just yet. What about George?" Methos scowled at him.

"George left about 45 minutes ago. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Has Petra said anything to you about where she's staying?"

"No, she hasn't. Duncan, what's going on?"

"We think George has Tristan and..."

"Think?" Methos demanded.

Duncan ignored him. "I don't think he'd kill Tristan without Petra, so just keep her there."

"I'll do my best," Amanda promised. "Speaking of which, her phone just rang, I'd better go."

Duncan flipped his phone shut and looked over at Methos. "Petra's still at the barge, Amanda's going to try to keep her there so we have a bit of time."

"Great, let's hope Petra doesn't get past Amanda with a sword." Methos answered grumpily.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Methos hesitated for a moment, then quickly related everything that had happened since he'd left Duncan at the church.

"So there's two of them hunting him now? Wonderful."

"Petra's got money," Methos said as they entered the city's centre. "So we'll check the better hotels first. I know the three aliases she usually uses."

It took them only three tries to find the hotel Petra and George were staying at. Knocking got them no answer, but Methos charmed a maid into opening it for them.

"He wouldn't bring Tristan here, but there's gotta be something to say where he would take him."

"And if there isn't?" Mac asked. Methos gave him an unreadable look. They searched the room carefully, including the pad of paper by the phone.

"Methos, I got it. A boat house on the outskirts of town."

"Good, call Amanda, make sure Petra is still at the barge, and let's go."


End file.
